


A Leap from Winterfell

by allthespiceyoullwant



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-15
Updated: 2015-07-14
Packaged: 2018-04-04 12:39:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4137909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allthespiceyoullwant/pseuds/allthespiceyoullwant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sansa and Theon flee from their tormentor, and they leap from the walls of the castle that had once been their home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

She fell.

 

 _What if the jump kills me? What if I die?_ But Sansa knew she had been dead for so long already, it wouldn't matter.

Then she hit the ground, hard, but the soft, deep snow slowed her down. Winter had come to save her after all.

 

Theon – or was it Reek? – gasped when his body was embraced by the snow. He was even weaker than Sansa, a mere shadow of a man. Sansa had no pity. He had taken Winterfell, betrayed her family, mocked the death of her brothers. He had deserved everything Ramsay did to him, and Sansa knew what Ramsay was capable of, she had had to endure it every night since their wedding. It had robbed her of everything. It had made her a ghost. A Ghost in Winterfell.

But something in her suddenly stirred, something she thought had died a long time ago. Compassion. _Theon is a turncloak_ , she thought, _but Ramsay is a monster. In life, the monsters win._

But not today. Not now. Not while she still had some of her left.

So Sansa stumped through the snow towards him. She hesitated for a heartbeat. Then she gave him her hand.

The creature took it, and he had tears in his eyes. “Thank you, m'lady”, he stammered. “Thank you.”

Sansa didn't respond. She still hated him, but she couldn't bring herself to leave him behind. _I will have a better chance of surviving with him by my side, that's all there is to it,_ she tried to convince herself, but deep down she knew she pitied him.

 

Where to now? Sansa didn't know. The North had been her home, she had been safe here for so long. But now it was hell, and she didn't know how to escape it. She didn't know where she would ever feel safe. _Petyr_ , whispered a voice in her head. _You're safe with Petyr._

Was she? Petyr had brought her to Winterfell, he had arranged to marry her to this monster, and then he had left her.

“Even the most dangerous men can be outmaneuvered. And you've learned to maneuver from the very best...” Had Petyr really trusted her? Had he really thought her ready to outmaneuver Ramsay Bolton, most ruthless man in Westeros? Sansa had given her best, but to no avail. He was not a man, he was a monster. _Monsters can't be outmaneuvered. In life, the monsters win._

Sansa thought of everything that had happened in the crypts. Petyr's kiss goodbye still burned on her lips. “You'll be strong without me...”

He had been right. She had to be strong, to find what Ramsay hadn't taken from her, draw her strength from that. It had been the memory of Petyr's sweet lips on hers, for such a fleeting moment, that had given her strength during her marriage. The last time a man had treated her gently. She had to draw strength from the kiss again. She had nothing else left.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You lied to me."
> 
> Request by dhelaines.

They ran.

 

The girl and the boy fled across the vast nothingness that was the North these days. The fields were burned down, the villages deserted. Winter had truly come, and it had brought nothing but death and doom.

But Lady Bolton and Reek did not stop to contemplate this. They barely stopped at all. No, they wanted to bring as much distance between themselves and the hell they had left behind as possible. They wanted to escape their past, escape their tormentor. They even wanted to escape their names. Nothing slowed them down. They ate berries and roots on good days, and on bad days they ate nothing. They drank molten snow, as long as it was still white. More of than not, is was red. But they forced each other to carry on. They both knew they would never have survived alone. But together, they stood a chance. Maybe two broken things can make a whole one.

 

It seemed like a miracle that they made it along the King's Road, further and further south.  _Maybe the gods have heard our prayers. It would have been the first time,_ thought the girl that had once been Sansa. And after weeks, they reached the Vale.

When the girl and the boy reached the Bloody Gate, she thought she had never been happier in her entire life. Finally, safety. Finally, a place with a roof, a warm fire, food. She would have cried of joy if she had had any tears left. But her marriage had taken them all.

They were greeted by one of Nestor Royce's household knights before they could knock on the heavy oaken doors. The man eyed them with disdain.  _Small wonder_ , thought the girl.  _We must look like beggars... We are beggars._

“Who are you? What do you want?”, he bellowed, his hand on the hilt of his sword.

_Your name. You have to remember your name._

It was something her lord husband had taught her.  _ Remember your name, little doe. You are Lady Bolton. You are mine, all mine. No one will hear you scream, and if they do, they wouldn't care. Because you are mine, and I can do as I please. _

She thought hard, trying to recall her name. It was so exhausting. Who was she? What was left of her? Then she remembered. “My name is Alayne Stone. I am the Lord Protector's daughter”, she croaked in her broken voice.

The voice inside her head screamed.  _ It's a lie, it's a lie. This is not your name. Remember your name! You're Lady Bolton. You are his. He can do as he pleases.  _ The memory still caused her physical pain. But she had to be strong. So she took a deep breath and repeated: “My name is Alayne Stone...” Her voice was trembling.

Reek nodded. “She is, m'lord, she is. I vouch for that. And I am-” He whimpered softly, steeling himself for the lie, “I am Theon of House Greyjoy.”

The knight still looked at them with a stern expression. “Littlefinger's bastard and the prince of the Iron Islands? I hardly think so.” He exhaled sharply and pointed back towards the Mountains of the Moon. “Away with you.”

_ No, please, no. Don't say that,  _ thought the girl, but she did not speak. She had learned that the word  _ No _ had no meaning, no meaning at all. Her marriage had taught her that.

But Reek said something. It was barely a whisper, swayed away by the wind as soon as the words left his mouth. Maybe that made it all the more powerful.

“When he finds out, he will hurt you.”

Oh, Ramsay would hurt them. They both knew it. But the knight didn't know. To him, the words had a different meaning.

“You're telling me Littlefinger will hurt me when he finds out I sent the two of you away?” He thought about this for a moment, his gaze fixating on the girl who claimed she was Alayne, as if he was trying to recognize her. Then he sighed. “Well, Winter  _ is _ coming, and you two miserable shits don't look dangerous. Lord Baelish can decide for himself what he wants to do with you.” He turned around and yelled: “Open the gates!”

The gates opened, and he led them inside the castle.

“Is my father here?”, asked the girl. Her mind raced. Shouldn't he be in King's Landing? That was what he had told her in the crypts of Winterfell. Had he already returned? Was that possible? How much time had passed?

She tried to remember how long ago she had last seen him, but time had lost all meaning to her. During her marriage, she had measured her life in pain.

The knight responded with a snarl. “He should be back within the fortnight, I think. His raven reached us not too long ago. Now that the queen's been arrested, looks like he wanted to stay in the city a little longer, tending to some business.”

“The queen has been arrested? Cersei?” The girl was astounded.  _ Good _ , she thought.  _ I hope she rots in her cell forever. _

“Looks like it.” The knight shrugged his shoulders. “It's all the same to me. What do I care whose ass warms the Iron Throne? Give me enough food and provisions to last this damn winter, and fuck the politics.”

The girl thought about this for a while. She was so tired, and so hungry and cold. What did it matter if she responded now? She didn't know if she had enough energy to speak. But suddenly the words just tumbled out of her mouth. “You should not let my lord father hear you say that.”

The knight looked at her and frowned. “Maybe you really are Littlefinger's bastard. You're just as sly as him.”

The girl didn't know whether to be proud.

 

In the days that followed, the girl and the boy bathed. They had their hair cut. They ate regularly and well. It was good. Slowly, gradually, they stepped out of the darkness. Now they were shadows in the daylight, dark and broken and ugly. It was more than they ever could have hoped for.  _ You need light to cast a shadow. _

The girl still remembered her name. How could she forget?  _ You're Lady Bolton. You are his. He can do as he pleases.  _ But it gradually became easier to lie and pretend she was Alayne Stone.

Sometimes, when she was walking through the gardens, alone with her thoughts, the girl thought of the last time she had left her old name behind and become Alayne. It seemed like someone else's story.

As Alayne was walking through the gardens now, stumping through the pure, white snow that reached until her ankles, she remembered something else that had happened between her and Petyr. Something that had happened in pure, white snow just as this.  _ Our first kiss. _

Gods, how frightened and surprised she had been! It had seemed so indecent... But the more she had thought about it, the more she had come to like it. She could still hear her thoughts echo in her head.  _ He likes me... I have power over him. And I shall toy with him, tease him, impress him. He shall become my tutor, and I his most devoted student... And we shall rise out of this chaos together, or not at all. _

How foolish she had been to trust him. How stupid to think he had her best interests at heart. How misguided to believe his lies. “Stannis takes Winterfell. He rescues you from the most despised family in the North. Grateful for your late father's courageous support of his claim, he names you Wardeness of the North.”

But Stannis was dead now. And so was she.

 

Suddenly she heard a voice. “Sansa.”

She flinched.  _ I'm not Sansa. I'm not even Alayne. Don't try to confuse me. I remember my name... I'm Lady Bolton. I am his. He can do as he pleases.  _ When she turned around, Petyr was standing there, with open arms and a warm smile.  _ He has never smiled at me like this before. _ She did not walk towards him.

For the longest time they just stood there, looking at each other. His eyes were warm, and that was so strange. It frightened her. But then again, everything frightened her these days. She held his gaze wordlessly, staring at him out of empty eyes.

Then Petyr spoke. “I'm glad you have returned. You are safe now.” He began to slowly walk towards her. Was he hesitating to walk faster?

Sansa felt a fiery rage rise within her. “I'm not safe”, she spat. “I'll never be safe again, not truly.”

Petyr stopped immediately, still with some distance between them. He averted his eyes. “I'm so sorry, sweetling. I should have known.”

That was not good enough for her. “You lied to me!” Her voice was raised, and it echoed from the castle walls. “I trusted you, and you lied to me! You told me you had a plan, and then you just let me rot!”

It felt good to scream at him. At last she felt something. Her rage and anger washed over her, red and hot and unforgiving. She embraced it. It was better than feeling empty. She was not a shadow any longer, she was a storm.

Petyr sighed. “I believed you could outmaneuver him... I was mistaken.” He still did not look at her.

“Don't blame this on me”, hissed Sansa in a cold voice. “Don't you dare blame this on me.”

“I would never blame it on you, sweetling”, said Petyr softly. He finally looked up and into her eyes. “I blame it on myself. I should have collected information about Ramsay beforehand.” He hesitantly took a step towards her and stopped again. “I hoped for the best... For I wanted to give you the North. It would have been my gift.”

Sansa threw him a cold look. “I don't need your gifts. I need my life back.”

_Her life._ She remembered it now.

Her childhood in Winterfell... Those memories were tainted now, tainted by everything she had had to endure there during her marriage.

Her time in King's Landing. These carefree days when she had still thought Joffrey was her sweet, sweet prince... Those memories were tainted, too.

Her flight to the Vale, and the hope she had felt when she had taken her place as Alayne, the Lord Protector's daughter. These fleeting moments when she had thought she could be happy here..

It was all tainted.  _And I am tainted, too. I'll never be pure again, never be white and pretty like this snow beneath my feet. I'll never be the snow maid Petyr kissed, in a different life._

Why was it that her thoughts always circled back to the kisses she had shared with Petyr? These two moments when his lips had brushed hers, so gentle and innocent? Sansa didn't know. She didn't want to think about the way Petyr's kisses had burned on her lips. It wasn't  _right._ She was Lady Bolton. No man was allowed to kiss her except her lord husband. And his kisses were sharp and painful. Sansa didn't want to remember how sweet a kiss could taste. It would only make her sad.

But sometimes she had been too weak to suppress the memories. How many times had she clung to the echo of Petyr's words to give her strength?  _“You're more beautiful than she ever was...”_ Now she was broken and ugly. Petyr would never want to kiss her again.

Sansa felt tears pool in her eyes, and it frightened her.  _Don't cry! You can't! He doesn't like it when you cry!,_ screamed the voice in her head.  _He likes you pretty and sweet. You have to smile at him, tell him you love him. Tell him you are his, and his alone, or he'll hurt you._

But Ramsay wasn't here now. Only Petyr, and he did not matter. So Sansa allowed herself to cry. First a single tear escaped her lashes, stealing its way over her cheek until it fell and was swallowed by the soft snow. Then another tear followed, and another, until they were pouring over her face. Her pain, her suffering, it was all feeding the endless stream. Her tears were hot and the winter air was cold, and her skin soon burned. But she let her tears flow.

Suddenly she realized how exhausting it was to cry. It was even more exhausting than being alive, and that was so, so exhausting already. Her knees started to tremble, and Sansa let herself fall. Petyr rushed to her side to catch her, but he was too late. She hit the ground, hard, but the soft, deep snow slowed her down. Winter had come to save her for the second time since she had leapt from Winterfell.

Petyr sunk to his knees and reached out to her, but Sansa squirmed free of his grip. She did not want to be touched, not now, not ever. Not even by him. And Petyr respected her and let her sit in the snow on her own. That was new.

For the longest time they sat in the snow, together alone. Neither of them spoke. Sansa felt Petyr's gaze on her, still warm and compassionate. It felt so wrong, the way he looked at her. He had never looked at her like this before. It was written all over his face just how broken she was. As if she needed to be reminded.

The snow soon drenched her clothes, but Sansa didn't care. She just sat there and cried softly, hoping against reason that she would one day become a snow maid again.

It was breathtakingly cold in the garden, mind numbingly freezing. Sansa embraced it. Numb was good.

After a while Petyr began to shiver. Sansa could hear his teeth clattering. She forced herself to look at him. “You should go back inside. You're freezing”, she whispered softly.

Petyr shook his head. “No, I'll stay”, he said. His voice was surprisingly firm, considering how cold he was. “I will never leave you again.”

Sansa felt the corners of her lips move up. Was she smiling? She couldn't even tell. She had not smiled in such a long time, she had forgotten how it felt like. But then Petyr smiled as well. “Aren't you cold, too?”, he asked, still so compassionately that it killed her.

Sansa sighed. “I have been cold since you said goodbye to me in the crypts beneath Winterfell.”

She fell silent for a moment and let her gaze wander though the garden. Then she added: “But this is a different cold. It does not hurt as much.”

Petyr's breath became more and more forced.  _The cold must have its effects on him. How nice that things like this still have the power to hurt him. I have experienced too much to be hurt by snow,_ thought Sansa. It made her feel strangely warm inside to see Petyr like this, so defeated by the winter air. Sansa took his hand in hers before she realized what she had done. Suddenly they were holding hands, their fingers entangled, his thumb gently stroking hers.

She looked up and found Petyr's gaze. His eyes were pleading. Sansa took a deep breath and nodded slightly. And Petyr understood and moved closer towards her, pulling her in his arms. Feeling a man touch her still made her flinch, but this time she did not pull back. She let Petyr wrap his arms around her. Sansa had never been touched more gently and carefully in her entire life. It was as if Petyr knew she would break if he touched her harder. After a few moments Sansa nestled up to him, letting her head rest against his chest. Despite the cold air, she could feel the heat radiating from his body, embracing her. She was surprised to find out she liked it.

Petyr leaned forward and planted a soft kiss on her hair. “I will never let anyone hurt you again”, he murmured, and there was a cruel edge in his voice that frightened her. But Sansa knew his rage was not directed at her. “I would die before I let anything happen to you again.”

His words were void of meaning. What could possibly happen to her that had not happened to her already? But somehow Sansa still enjoyed hearing them. She nestled closer to his chest.

So they sat in the garden for the longest time, watching the world around them softly being covered by the pure, white snow. And Sansa silently prayed to the old gods that maybe, miraculously, her life could begin anew once the snow had melted, just like flowers bloomed again with each new spring.


End file.
